


The Balance of Force and Reaction

by GatewayGirl



Series: Sex Magic [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-12-31
Updated: 2004-12-31
Packaged: 2017-12-04 15:20:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/712228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GatewayGirl/pseuds/GatewayGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snape stalked forward. "Harry, raising people from the dead is a generally inadvisable pursuit. In this case, I admit, your chances for a pleasant outcome are better than usual, as Black, while dead, never went through the messy business of <i>dying.</i>"</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Balance of Force and Reaction

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings:** Rude dog :-)  
>  **Canon-Compliancy:** OotP

Snape shifted, but Harry pulled him back. "We need to get up," Snape said tersely.

"Mmm. Uhn-uh."

"Pay attention! Did you try to resurrect your godfather or not?"

"Mm-hm. And --" Harry's eyes flew suddenly open. Snape was dislodged by his sudden jerk to the side. "Fuck!"

"No, we've finished that part." Snape stood. "Now, perhaps, we should visit the Department of Mysteries?"

"Fuck, yes. Where the hell are my trousers?" Harry began tossing garments and bedclothes haphazardly about.

"Folded. On the chair."

"Oh! Thanks. I'll clean up the mess later. I've got to go."

"I'll want robes myself. Wait."

Harry stared. "You are _not_ coming with me!"

"You are not going alone."

"You hate Sirius! You'll be horrible to him! He's probably panicking, or morose, or --"

Snape stalked forward. "Harry, raising people from the dead is a generally _inadvisable_ pursuit. In this case, I admit, your chances for a pleasant outcome are better than usual, as Black, while dead, never went through the messy business of _dying."_ Snape took a deep breath. "If, however, you have created a monster that must be ... sent back, you need someone with you who cares nothing for Black and will not hesitate. Is that clear?"

Harry rubbed at his face. "I ... yes, but.... Only if he must be, though."

"Potter, if I were going to kill Black for being a sadistic, irresponsible prick, he would have been dead before he knew adolescence."

Harry bit his lip. "Okay. Promise you won't cause trouble though?"

"Meaning?"

"You fight him, if necessary, but _I'm_ the one who should talk to him."

"Agreed."

Harry sighed. "All right. I don't suppose you'd wash your hair?"

"Are you _insane?_ While Black might be running mad in the Ministry? This is not a date, Potter."

"Yeah, but if he finds out what we've done, I'd rather you at least look decent."

Snape stared incredulously at him. "We do _not have time."_

"Use a spell, then."

Snape frowned. "I never studied that sort of frivolity."

"Oh!" Harry couldn't keep the amusement from his voice. "All right, then." He flicked his wand out at Snape. _"Lustrio."_

"You arrogant little --"

"Sorry, but it's quicker than fighting. Let's go."

  


On the way upstairs, they made some quick decisions. Kingsley Shacklebolt -- now the closest thing the Order had to a leader -- would not be told anything until they knew what had happened with Sirius Black. Tonks, as Sirius's cousin, was the best Ministry insider to bring to the site. Afterwards, she could set off the investigation of Voldemort's status while Harry -- or Snape -- handled Sirius. During the efficient and focused conversation, Harry managed not to touch Snape, or to blurt out some currently sincere declaration of love.

They went into Headmistress McGonagall's office -- the closest grate tied into the external floo network -- and flooed to Tonks's flat. There was a pretty young woman sitting on the couch. She tugged down the hem of her long T-shirt, but not before Harry had seen a flash of uncovered brown curls beneath it.

"Sorry," he apologized. "Are you Tonks?"

The girl, wide-eyed, shook her head. 

"Tonks!" Snape called, and Tonks, wearing nothing but close-fitting trousers, strode into the room. As she stepped through the door, she morphed her small breasts into non-existence and gave her torso more masculine lines. Even her nipples turned to little nubs.

"Honestly, Snape --!" She stopped short. "Harry?"

Harry realized he was staring at her altered chest and quickly refocused on her face. "Hey. Look, sorry about the intrusion, but I think I may have resurrected Sirius, and we thought you should be with us while we checked."

She blinked rapidly.

Snape, dryly, added, "He also _thinks_ he might have destroyed Voldemort."

"We," Harry corrected. "That was the planned part. I seem to recall you were involved." He met Snape's eyes, and Snape returned the look with a smoldering stare that raised Harry's interest despite the circumstances. Harry thought the freshening spell had probably been a mistake. A clean Snape looked disturbingly unfamiliar, and cleanliness did not go well with the man's current level of disheveled. Harry felt in disarray, himself. He wished he'd thought to use the toilet before leaving. Not squirming was becoming a challenge.

Tonks folded her arms across her new boyish torso and looked curiously between them. "And _you_ think?"

Snape's usual distance returned. "Neither of these things is unlikely."

The metamorph's look of bemusement changed slowly to resolve. "All right, then. We'll check." She looked over at the girl. "Sorry, Petra -- I'll call if it takes more than an hour, that good?"

Petra nodded jerkily. Her eyes had found Harry's scar, and she seemed unable to look away from it. Tonks took a coin from the mantle and handed it to Harry, then offered him a jar of floo powder. "It's a key of sorts -- it will let you out of the floo network inside our offices. Call 'Auror's Den.' Wait for me."

Without hesitation, Harry stepped in the fireplace and tossed some of the powder down. "Auror's Den!" he called.

He stepped out in a dark and deserted lounge, full of vague, looming shapes. Tonks, an unbuttoned shirt thrown over her still-masculine chest, apparated in a moment later and set the lamps to burning. The bulky forms resolved into comfy, worn chairs and couches. Though small, the place reminded Harry of the Gryffindor common room.

Tonks held out her hand. "Give me the key, and I'll go back and get Snape." She hesitated. "Unless you'd rather I didn't?"

"No, bring him. He has the right to be here." Harry forbore from saying that he wanted Snape near. He handed back the coin. A moment later, all three of them were in the room. Tonks led the way to the door.

"Come on. You can tell me what happened later."

 

They jogged down empty corridors, and through wide doorways, until they reached the Department of Mysteries. It had been more than two years since Harry's ill-fated expedition to the place, but he still shuddered when they reached the empty corridor, and he let Tonks open the black door. He couldn't bring himself to touch it.

They went through the circular room, Tonks snapping out a code that brought them straight to the door to the room with the Veil. Harry looked down at the crumbling archway. The tattered black fabric, just as he remembered, fluttered slightly, as if in memory of motion. On the steps in front of the Veil, a figure was sprawled, face-down. Harry froze. A lump formed in his throat. It looked as if Sirius had fallen forward though the Veil, or as if he had started to crawl up the steps and  
collapsed. His face was covered with a spill of tangled black hair, but his back lifted and fell with slow breaths, as in sleep. Harry could feel his own heartbeat moving in pounding shocks through his body.

"Sirius?" The query emerged as a quavering whisper, so faint that Harry doubted anyone but Snape, standing right at his side, could hear it. He took a step forward, but Snape's arm shot out in front of him, blocking his path.

"That's close enough."

Harry cleared his throat. "Sirius!"

Sirius stirred. 

Groggily, the man lifted his head, yawned, and rubbed at his eyes. "What ... what happened?" Moving more quickly, he twisted and sat up, then grinned apologetically at Harry as he rubbed the back of his neck. "She knocked me out, didn't she?" Sirius took his first good look about him, and frowned. "Where is everybody? Why are you still here?"

"Shh." Harry moved forward, but Snape put a hand on his arm.

"No. Not yet."

"He's fine! He's just confused!"

"Perhaps."

Sirius had acquired a scowl. "Get your filthy hands off my godson, Snivellus."

Harry snarled. "Don't act like a third-year!"

Sirius blinked. "What?"

"You've no excuse to go calling him stupid names. Behave!"

Sirius stared, opened-mouthed. Cautiously, Tonks slipped down the stairs.

"Sirius?" She held out her hand. "How are you feeling? Can you get up?"

Sirius, his eyes still on Harry, took the offered hand and pulled himself to his feet. Tonks slipped, and for one terrifying moment teetered on the edge of the steps, but Sirius, almost absent-mindedly, caught her and nudged her up to safety. She pulled him along, away from the whispering Veil, and Snape let Harry take a step forward.

"Harry." Sirius stared at him, bewildered. "You look...." His voice failed.

"You've been gone a long time, Black."

Snape was behind him, but Harry could _hear_ the man's smirk. Sirius continued to scan up and down Harry.

"Gone?"

Tonks was touching him, then clinging to him, her eyes wet with tears. "Oh Sirius! You -- you died."

Sirius laughed. He patted his body appraisingly. "Survived it well, apparently?"

"You fell through the Veil," Harry said flatly. Sirius stopped smiling. "Years ago."

"Harry," Snape said, his voice lingering familiarly over the name, "retrieved you."

Sirius pushed Tonks from him and backed away, stopping at the top of the stairs.

"It's all right...." Tonks soothed.

"You can't mean it!" Sirius looked wildly among them. His attention finally settled on Harry. "You _didn't_ do such a thing. You couldn't have."

Harry grinned. "Rather seems that I could, doesn't it? Since I did."

"Harry!" Sirius's voice cracked. "Necromancy is the darkest of Dark Arts --"

Snape interrupted with a rude noise. "Don't make such a fuss, Black. It was hardly proper Necromancy. It's not as if he was laying out sigils in blood ..." Snape's voice faltered slightly. "... and calling up evil spirits to do his bidding."

Harry laughed. "Well, there was one design in blood. I didn't call anything though." He smiled at Sirius. "Don't get offended, but you weren't the _point_ of the spell. I added in pulling you back at the last minute. That's why we're not prepared."

"What _was_ the point?"

"To kill Voldemort." Harry laughed again. He felt giddy. "I think we did it, too!" It was a moment before he noticed that Sirius was watching him in horror. "Sirius, I swear I wasn't trying to mess around with death. I'd just had all this power, and I'd made it into a snake --"

"Are you _out_ of your MIND?"

"Harry." Snape's voice was suddenly low and urgent. "What do you mean, 'made it into a snake?'"

"It was -- I needed to send it around -- back to you. So I made it into a snake and had it bite its tail."

"How ... wizardly. I would have expected you to use some more Muggle visualization. Electricity, perhaps."

Harry shook his head. "Electricity goes in lines, down wires." 

"I see." A moment's faint amusement faded from Snape's voice. "So you sent this snake to fetch Sirius?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

Harry frowned. "To use up the power! You said --"

Snape held up a hand. "Yes, but _why_ did you want Sirius? This is important. Was it love, or pride, or desire, or spiting Death -- be as specific as possible, please."

Harry looked around. Tonks was worrying at her lower lip, and Sirius was still staring at Harry as if he was a monster from a nightmare. Snape seemed almost anxious. Harry closed his eyes to think.

"Love, mainly. Loneliness? I've missed him. A bit of guilt -- he wouldn't have died if I'd done what I said I'd do, and I wanted to set things right."

Snape let out an audible breath. Harry opened his eyes to see Tonks nodding slightly. "Good." Snape nodded as well, more decisively. "Mostly good. That will help."

"What? What are you on about?"

"When you create a demon --"

"A WHAT?"

"A _demon,_ Potter. A spirit servant. When you create a demon, four things determine its eventual nature: what energy you formed it from -- all bad in this case; the energy you used to do so -- I expect that was mostly a neutral sort?" A private leer accompanied this sly insinuation. "-- the form you give it; and the first command you give it. This is one case in which good intentions actually _do_ matter -- your demon will be much more manageable than if you had first sent it out for vengeance, or to display your power."

"Oh." Before Harry could absorb that, Sirius stepped forward, eyes narrowed.

"So you've been teaching him, have you, Snape?"

Snape snorted contemptuously, and Sirius took another quick, angry step.

"What?" Harry moved in between them. He was suddenly aware this put Snape only a pace behind him. He had the urge to step back until they touched. _It's the aftermath of the spell. Sex magic can do that._ He resisted strongly, but felt a flush of heat that had nothing to do with embarrassment. "I just asked --"

Sirius shook his head. "I come back here -- after what? Two years? Three? -- and _you're_ doing Dark Arts, and look who's standing behind --"

"I am _not_ doing Dark Arts!"

"Creating a demon is Dark Arts! Magic to kill someone is Dark Arts! And if your _instructor_ did not see fit to tell you --"

"You are betraying your ignorance, Black. The function of this spell was to heal, by assuming another's burden. It was due to the Dark Lord's own perfidy that we were able to use it ag--."

" _You_ had him cast this spell with you -- one with symbols in blood --!"

"I asked him!" Harry interrupted. "Hermione found the spell, and _I asked him."_

"Why _HIM?"_ Sirius was bellowing, now, his face dark with rage.

Harry stopped himself from answering immediately. At the moment, he found it hard to imagine that Snape would not have been his first choice of partner for _anything._ He tried to look through the blinding effects of the sex magic, and remember why he had chosen Snape, when there had been no affection and only tenuous trust between them. Sirius was waiting, hands clenched at his sides, vibrating with anger.

"Because he bore the Dark Mark," Harry remembered distantly. "I needed someone with the Mark, with a binding to Voldemort." This suddenly struck him as amusing, and he grinned at Sirius. "Not many of _those_ that wouldn't kill me, are there?"

"Harry." Sirius quieted, rage turning to anguish. "Harry. Hasn't anyone been looking after you?"

Another contemptuous little sound from Snape, who seemed to have edged closer.

"No one has ever looked after him, Black, other than from a distance." An edge of amusement laced the scorn. "Surely you, of all people, should know that?"

Harry whirled. "You, too!" The intended reprimand had, to his embarrassment, an affectionate tone to it. Seeing that Snape was about to protest, he pushed on. "You stop that. You promised you wouldn't make trouble."

"Snivellus always m--"

"SHUT UP!" Harry wasn't surprised to hear himself yell at Sirius, but he was a bit startled that he had his wand out. Sirius stood frozen, mouth and eyes wide. Harry took a deep breath. "Now. I think we should go back to Hogwarts, have Sirius examined by Poppy, and all calm down a bit, then perhaps Sirius and I can continue this discussion in _private,_ after the rest of us have talked to Kingsley --"

"Poppy?" Sirius said incredulously.

"Invited me to use her given name as soon as my final term ended. Now --"

"Harry's right," Tonks said quickly. "We need to find out if Voldemort _was_ destroyed, and anyway, the Department of Mysteries is not the right place to talk about all this." She looked hesitantly at her kinsman. "Most of the Ministry building is under Apparation blocks, now, so we need to go to a designated point. Sirius, perhaps Padfoot...?"

Sirius changed readily. Harry thought later that he might have been relieved to get out of the awkward conversation. As a great black dog, he frisked eagerly over to Harry, and Harry, equally happy to get down to basic matters, knelt and hugged him, and rubbed his ears, and whispered "missed you." There was a lump in his throat when he stood.

The dog recoiled. Harry looked down at him. "Padfoot?"

With canine lack of discretion, Padfoot shoved his nose into Harry's crotch. His hackles rose.

"Snuffles!" Harry pushed at the big dog's nose, but it vanished under his hands as Sirius Black shifted and turned at once. He focused on Snape, who had backed away at the first change.

"You BASTARD!"

Sirius lunged. 

_"Stupefy!"_

Sirius crashed to the floor, and Harry was left trembling and staring at his wand.

"Good natured as ever, I see," Snape commented.

"Well, I suppose that would have been a shock."

Snape choked on a laugh. "And _you_ are the one who should have washed."

Tonks shot them an odd look. "We need to get him to Pomfrey now. He fell pretty hard."

Ministry security may have improved, Harry thought, but it was still bad. Now that they were all thinking of the expanded hospital at Hogwarts, all realized they had portkeys to there, and those were unaffected by the Apparation block.

 

"I'll take him," Harry said, when they appeared in the Order's arrival room. "He'll be better when it's just me. You two talk to Kingsley, and see if we can get Remus recalled. I think I'm going to need him." He drew in his breath through his teeth. "And he damn well better not have died since Monday."

 

Madam Pomfrey, at a run, met Harry by the beds in the next room. She stopped in her tracks when she recognized the body floating beside Harry. "Sirius Black! But ... Harry, who --?"

Harry floated Sirius onto a bed. "Sirius Black. Don't worry about how, just yet. He hit his head. I took him down with a Stupefaction Hex."

_"You_ did!"

"He was lunging for Snape and too close to reason with. He's not psychotic or anything -- just very angry, and ... well, it was Snape."

Pomfrey looked disapproving. "That's no excuse!"

"Not at all. But it _is_ Sirius." Harry hesitated. "He's still going to be angry when he revives."

But the mediwitch, having sent two spells at Sirius's head, was bustling around, casting more and tsking to herself. "Been drinking too much, I'd say. Never could take care of himself."

"The head?"

"He'll be fine, Harry -- don't fret. If I couldn't handle a little head injury, we wouldn't have any Gryffindors left by Easter. Do you want to be here or not when I revive him?"

Harry hesitated.

"The discussion we need to have is ... private. Do you suppose you could revive him and give him a Calming Draught while I wait out of sight? Then, maybe give us a little time alone?"

Pomfrey gave him a slightly chiding look, as though certain he had caused trouble, but followed it with an indulgent smile. "I suspect I had better, if I don't want your trouble here."

Harry stepped away from the bed and Madam Pomfrey put up a privacy curtain. Her footsteps silenced as she stepped behind it, and Harry realized she had blocked sound as well as sight. He sighed. At least there was no point in staying to listen. He had just returned from a quick, welcome excursion to the toilet when Pomfrey poked her head around the barrier.

"He's awake now, Harry." She paused on her way past and added softly, "He didn't want the potion. We compromised on a small dose. He's quite capable of being angry, but should stop short of physical attack."

"Thanks," Harry replied. Nervously, he walked around the barrier. Sirius was sitting up, his legs hanging off the bed, and already glaring.

"So, Harry -- which of you hexed me?"

"Me. You can't just attack people because you don't like what I do with them."

"You've been letting that bastard bugger you!"

"That was," Harry replied icily, "the spell. It required penetration _by_ the party with the thing to be transferred _of_ the party it was to be transferred to. So yes, he buggered me, as you say." Harry couldn't help wondering if they would get to do it again. "On my request, I might add."

Sirius took in an audible deep breath. "Then ... it's just been the once?"

Harry shrugged. "So far."

Sirius's unhappy face disappeared behind his hands. Harry studied the tattoo on the back of his godfather's left hand, and let him reach the obvious conclusion himself. Eventually, fingers pushed back through greying black curls, and Sirius looked up.

"You..." the formerly familiar voice caught -- "... had a reaction?"

Harry sat down on empty bed across from Sirius. "I suppose."

"Harry, if you _want_ him, you had a reaction. There is nothing desirable about Sni-- that man."

"Oh, I don't know. He has wonderful hands. And that voice...." Harry broke off his teasing praises of Snape at the look on his godfather's face. "And then there's the experience itself," he said intently. "When you do something like that -- kill somebody, save somebody, attain your life's goal with somebody ... there'll be a connection, magic or no."

"It's JUST the sex magic!" Sirius roared. 

"No. It's both." 

Sirius jumped out of the bed and began pacing. His hands were moving as if he was in full rant, but he had made two trips to the wall and back before any words came out.

"Harry ... I ... this is awkward, but ..." He stopped and looked anxiously at Harry. "What do you know about it?"

"Sex magic? Or sex?"

Harry found it curious how much easier it was to say the words after this evening. He supposed he was still on an emotional high, despite his godfather's reaction. He had no doubt that Sirius loved him, and would continue to love him, whatever he did. Harry remembered their spat about "James would..." a few months before he lost Sirius. He hadn't understood, at that age, that he could rely on that. Sirius might stop _showing_ it for a bit, but in time, he knew now, he'd come around.

"Both." Sirius stopped. He ground his teeth. "Magic first."

"All right. Sex magic can produce a bond -- either emotional or sexual, but most often both -- between the participants. Often these bonds wear off. Sometimes they don't. Attempting to remove them is frequently detrimental to the sanity of the wizards or witches involved. The stronger the magic, the greater the likelihood of a bond." Harry hesitated. "The, um, less experience a participant has, the greater that participant's susceptibility to a bond."

From the sour look that crossed Sirius's face, Harry suspected that Sirius guessed the reason for his hesitation.

"Which brings us to _sex,_ Harry. What experience have ... had you had?' He looked sharply at Harry, who could not think what to say. "Had you had sex before?"

Harry moistened his lips, which had gone oddly dry. "I ... I'm not certain. Sort of."

"Oh come on! Either you have or you haven't!"

"Well, there was this girl...." Harry's voice trailed off. He was already feeling ill.

"Were you _in_ her?"

Harry nearly laughed, despite the churning in his stomach. He'd missed his godfather's unabashed bluntness.

"Briefly."

Sirius looked askance at him. 

"It was ... we were just ... comforting each other, and then...."

"And one thing led to another."

"Right. And neither of us knew any contraceptive charms -- well, she didn't, and I hadn't known there _was_ such a thing...." Harry saw Sirius wince, and continued hurriedly, "So we decided to just keep doing what we were doing, which was just rubbing ... you know, against each other, and kissing...." Harry's voice faltered, remembering the wet slide and the desperate, consuming kisses.

Sirius looked pained. "And one or both of you moved just right -- or just wrong -- and you were inside her, is that it?"

Harry nodded. "And she wouldn't let me pull out, at first. It was...." He closed his eyes. "Pretty good," he managed, then laughed at the absurdity of the understatement. She had pulled him tight against her with arms and legs both, crying out and thrusting up to take him deeper. _Don't you dare, don't you dare stop, Harry. Yes! Yesyesyes...._

Sirius sat down next to him.

"Did she get pregnant?"

Harry swallowed and tried to shrug. "Dunno."

Sirius, who had been looking sympathetic and oddly somber, froze. His uneasy compassion hardened to a glare. "You _don't know?"_

Harry managed the shrug this time. "She died about twelve hours later. I don't know." He shook his head. "We ... talked about it a little in the morning, then we went off to the battle. She died. I didn't."

"Harry." Sirius lost his voice for a moment. "I'm so sorry I wasn't there for you," he said finally.

It was such an odd sentiment that Harry laughed. It sounded strained and painful to his own ears. "I doubt that would have saved her. What could you have done?"

A hand came hesitantly to his shoulder. "Listened?"

Harry couldn't sit straight, anymore. He sagged against the offered shoulder and pressed his face into his godfather's old coat. Sirius, oddly, smelled as if he had just come from Grimmauld Place -- of must and woodsmoke, hippogriff and firewhiskey. Harry didn't cry, but he pressed against him and let the shakes go through his body until he trusted himself to speak.

"I tried to talk to Hermione, but she ... she didn't mean to be, but she was _awful._ And there was no one else...."

"Ron?"

"Ron was wounded. And George died, in that same battle ... Ron didn't need me crying about Luna. It wasn't like we'd ever been _in love,_ or anything, it was just that it was so likely that one of us would die -- her more than me, of course, 'cause I always have the frigging honor guard, so no one bloodies my nose before I get to Voldemort --"

"George -- died?"

Harry nodded slightly. That still hurt. It was oddly comforting to hear the pained disbelief in his godfather's voice.

"And Fred?"

Harry's throat closed even further. "Didn't," he whispered.

It amazed him, still, that it could hurt so to say someone _hadn't_ died. Fred had said himself, one shot from a drunken stupor, that _the twins_ were dead, and it was only him, now, and he didn't know who he was. A year on, it still pained Harry to talk to him, to try to pretend it was _normal_ that there was only one voice, one face....

"Poor kid."

"He's shaved his hair off and grown a beard. He said it's the only way he could stand to look in the mirror." Harry looked down at his knees. "He won't do jokes, anymore. I had to have Lee hire some little wild boy to help with the shop. Makes excellent munitions, though. Traps. Spy devices...."

Sirius let out a shaky breath.

"And he's not a kid," Harry added. "No more than I am." 

"How old _are_ you?"

"Eighteen."

"You're still young." Sirius didn't sound too certain. Harry nodded.

"But I've _killed._ I've found the bodies of dead friends, and patched up ones that weren't dead." He thought about Fred. "I've drunk myself into oblivion with the survivors -- or not, because someone needs to be on guard."

"But you don't have anyone."

"I have everyone," Harry countered. "We're all just spread a little thin."

"What about Remus?"

"He was alive last I knew -- five days ago. Probably is still."

"No, I mean ... couldn't you talk to him?"

Harry tried to shrug, again, but it turned to a pained drawing in of his shoulders. He stood up.

"Lupin and I aren't terribly close." 

Sirius, on the bed behind him, stiffened. "What does _that_ mean?"

"It means," Harry said precisely, "that we are _not close._ He's always done his best to see to it that I am looked after, Sirius. He cares for me. But he is not someone I would confess my ill-considered sexual liaisons to." Harry pushed back his perpetually messy hair. "And if I did, he'd probably ignore the actual _problem_ and give me the same knee-jerk lecture on birth control and responsibility that I'd already had from Hermione!"

"Most people tell someone when their lover dies."

"She wasn't my lover! It was just the once!"

"But there must have been some reason why you chose each other."

Harry closed his eyes. 

"Yeah." 

They were both silent for a moment. When the time had stretched out awkwardly, Sirius cleared his throat. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you," he repeated.

Harry shrugged. "I'm the one who got you killed."

"What?" Sirius straightened his back and glowered. "Harry, _I_ was the reckless idiot who --"

"And I was the one who _said_ I was trying to block Voldemort while I was welcoming every intrusion and treating it as prophecy!" Harry caught his breath and lowered his voice to a normal speaking tone. "Of course, if anyone had told me _why_ they wanted me to do it, I might have done better."

"It's not your fault! Don't you _dare_ think it's your fault."

Harry sniffed in wry amusement. "Too late." 

He turned uneasily from Sirius's pained face and cleared his throat. "Here, let's go find Poppy, and see if she'll let you go. You can have my bed for the night."

"And where will you sleep?" Sirius protested.

Harry sent him a sly, sidelong look. "I was hoping for the dungeons ... and not too much sleep. Tell you what, though -- if he throws me out, I'll come back and tell you to budge over."

 

When Snape opened the door to Harry's knock and waved him in, Harry felt tension melting away from him. He managed to restrain himself from walking straight to the bedroom only by turning and yanking Snape into a kiss. As much as he wanted to jump the man, the kiss was its own pleasure, and he luxuriated in each soft press of lips and sinuous motion of tongue.

"Well," Snape remarked, when they finally separated. "You unquestionably know how to do _that."_

"Thanks."

Snape's smile had a touch of its usual cruelty. "Not wearing off yet, I take it?"

"No." Harry let out a quick breath. "I love you. I've never felt like this about anyone." He looked desperately at Snape. "I need you. Could we...?" He gestured with his head to the bedroom, but Snape was already sliding open his robes.

"Oh!" Harry moved to help. Snape's hands retreated, letting Harry undo the buttons of his fly and free his cock from the smooth woven fabric. It bobbed slightly, but stayed high.

"You know what I'd like?" Snape's voice had found that low, dangerous purr that even some of his students admitted was sexy. "I'd like your mouth on that."

Harry almost fell in his eagerness to get to his knees. Snape gripped his hair. He groaned. "Ah. That's it, Potter ... such a fine mouth! I wish your father could see ... his precious son on his knees --" He silenced abruptly, holding Harry's head still. Harry froze momentarily, then tried a few cautious licks.

_"Harry._ Stop a moment."

Harry looked up. "Was that wrong? I've never --"

"No, no, that was fine. I'm sorry."

"Sorry?"

"I ..." Snape's face went blank. He twitched slightly. "I shouldn't ... hold your father against you."

"Oh." Harry shrugged. "He was horrible to you. I understand. May I...?" He licked quickly up the front of Snape's erect cock, but hands pulled at his shoulders.

"No. We need to talk."

"But...."

"You can't talk with your mouth full."

"Fuck me, then."

Snape drew in breath between his teeth. "Harry, believe me, I want this as much as you do, but before anything, we need to talk."

Harry sighed and let himself be pulled to his feet. He noticed his hands were shaking.

Snape's hands were clenched at his sides. "The sex magic --"

"I know! I'm not stupid." 

"I am affected as well." 

Harry glared at him. "I am _not_ stu--"

"Harry! Listen. I'm sorry for making that comment about your father." Snape looked more furious than apologetic. _"Sorry,_ do you understand? I could barely spit it out, and when I did, it hurt. I couldn't stop myself from apologizing, and if you had ... had become upset, or something, I don't know what I would have done!"

Harry thought back. "Oh."

"'Oh,' indeed."

"Well ..." Harry reached out a daring hand and stroked it up Snape's thigh. "All in all, I'd rather be in this sort of fix with company, you know? I mean, as it is, it feels good."

"Yes, but ... people will have fits!"

"I'm old enough, right? Seventeen is old enough, in the wizarding world -- in any combination as I understand it -- and I'm eighteen."

"But you should not be in love with me! There is no earthly reason for you to be wasted on the likes of me!" Snape seized Harry's hand and held it tightly in place.

Harry tried to consider the matter logically. "I'm not such a prize myself, you know -- especially not for someone like you, who I'm sure values intelligence and education over good reflexes. We both have horrible tempers and can keep a grudge long enough to make ourselves sick."

"You are young, attractive, magically powerful, famous, and rich."

Harry shrugged. "You're brilliant and intense, and I'm sure you'll be famous soon, if it worked."

"Gah! Famous for buggering the Boy-Who-Lived." Snape thought for a moment. "It's quite possible neither of us will get any credit outside of the Order of the Phoenix. After all, if Voldemort dropped dead, we can't prove we caused it."

For a moment, Harry felt offended. His destined life's accomplishment, achieved but unacknowledged! The repercussions of this began to sink in, and he found himself giggling uncontrollably.

"Is this amusing?"

"Well, it might improve my life, annoying as it would be." He ticked off points on his fingers. "I'd be dismissed as a disappointment -- annoying. I'd be a lesser celebrity, giving me far greater freedom -- enjoyable. Voldemort's supporters -- except possibly for a few in the know -- won't be out to kill me -- brilliant!"

"No one will be able to grasp why you have ended up with a bad-tempered, middle-aged, former Death Eater -- should this last."

"People who matter will know." Harry reached out and took Snape's hand. "People who matter know that you're a really impressive person."

"Oh, spare me."

"You are. I think you're as brave as any Gryffindor, and clever enough for Ravenclaw." Harry looked thoughtfully at Snape. "You must have been desperate to prove yourself to have ended up in Slytherin."

"What does proving myself have to do with it?"

"That's what the Hat said to me, when it was considering Slytherin -- that I had a 'thirst to prove myself.'"

"Ah. Yes, it is a form of ambition." Snape looked at him speculatively. "So you were a hard-to-sort one, were you? Yes, I remember the wait. What were the options?"

"Everything but Hufflepuff, I think."

"Did you have an opinion?" 

Harry looked down. "Not Slytherin."

"Ah."

There was an awkward silence. Eventually, Harry leaned forward to claim a kiss, and the lack of words became pleasant.

"Um ... Could we?"

Snape looked uncharacteristically flustered. "In a moment. I allowed myself to be distracted, and we still have not discussed this. Briefly, here are the points. You are influenced. I am influenced, but have greater control. I am more likely to get over it than you are --"

"That would be horrible!"

"Excuse me?"

"If I was in this state and you weren't? I couldn't bear to have you reject me."

"Why on earth would I _reject_ you, Potter? Were you listening?"

Harry found the question alarming. The whole evening had been as strange as his first trip to Diagon Alley. "If you will recall, sir -- logically -- you hate me."

Snape rubbed the bridge of his nose for a moment. 

"I do remember." He sighed. "But as I said, you are young, attractive, and magically powerful, and not, despite your lack of intellectual focus, unintelligent. I'm not sure the antipathy could survive its interruption, especially if you remained ... affectionate."

Harry wasn't sure he believed that, but he moved his head in a way that might be taken for a nod. "Is there anything else, or should I ...?" His hands moved to his shirt buttons, but longer hands met them and pushed them away.

"Oh no. I will do that, this time."

Harry sighed with pleasure as Snape's stained fingers took over his work at the buttons. He reached out and settled his hand's at the potions maker's waist instead. "Mmm. You know, if we did it, you're free."

Snape smirked. "No. If we did it, I am in a much more enjoyable mutual slavery."

Harry moaned agreement, as Snape, still working on the buttons, pushed his hips forward to press his still bare erection against Harry's covered one. The tip of his cock left a damp streak on Harry's shirt as he pulled it free. Harry rocked his hips into the contact.

"More. Please."

Snape's mouth curled in a dangerous snarl. "Oh, much more." His fingers pushed under the waistband of Harry's trousers, just grazing the head of his cock. Harry whined and pushed up. The fireplace flared with orange.

"Damn it!"

Snape tucked himself in and did up his robes over his gapping trousers while Harry moved to the wall. It was a matter of seconds before a tap of Snape's wand opened the floo.

Harry couldn't see, but Kingsley's voice was as familiar to him as his own.

"Snape! What the devil are you playing at?"

"I was busy. Make it quick."

"No luck there! We need everybody up in the planning room as soon as possible. Do you know where Harry is?"

"Here." Harry, his shirt buttoned, if untucked, stepped into view. "Did it work?"

Kingsley's face split into a wide grin. "We think it did. Congratulations. We still have problems, though. We have a meeting assembling here. Floo through."

"Um -- give me a couple minutes?"

"Two minutes exactly." Kingsley scowled. "I'll open it back up then."

His face, and the flames around it, vanished. 

"Bloody hell!" 

Snape ground his teeth in agreement. "Get your shirt tucked in."

Harry scowled. He wanted --

"Potter!" 

"Hm?"

Snape pointed, and Harry looked over his right shoulder. A black serpent with scattered sparkles, as if it was made of a field of stars, coiled in the air behind him.

"Oh," Harry breathed. He held out a hand. 

"I recommend you keep your desires under control, Potter."

"Sorry," Harry said to the serpent. "I don't really need anything."

He stretched out a hand, and the serpent coiled down his arm and was gone.

"Shirt!" Snape ordered. 

 

When the floo reopened, they both had their clothes in minimal order, but Harry thought their complexions were suspicious -- Snape, in particular, was not known for ruddy cheeks and bright eyes. Still, there was nothing for it but to step through the grate to face their fellow members of the order. They didn't touch as they took their seats, but Harry was certain everyone could tell that they were sitting together, not next to each other.

Kingsley stood. 

"I have both some very good news and some equal urgent action items."

"We re-took Crying Beach?"

"The Reflection Charm is finally complete?"

Kingsley smiled thinly. "Harry killed Voldemort."

There was a second of complete silence, and then people began to whoop and cheer. Ignoring Kingsley's raised hand, men and women and not a few members too young to be called either jumped from their seats. Many came over to embrace Harry, but only Ron and Colin and McGonagall braved his stony look long enough to do so.

"Thank you, Harry," McGonagall whispered. 

"If you will please sit down --"

"That's not true!"

"Harry?"

The voices were quieter now, and people were looking at him. "Hermione found the spell, and I remembered Bill's idea, and Professor Snape modified them both, and all I did was, well, _do_ it."

Kingsley rolled his eyes. "Modesty noted. Now --"

"Fuck modesty! Say 'Harry and Severus, with help from Hermione and Bill, killed Voldemort.'"

"Fine! So the lot of you did it -- the point is it's done!"

"Here, here!" McGonagall piped up, but not without beaming smiles at her named former pupils.

"Which idea?" Bill asked. 

Kingsley shut up Harry with a glare. "Before _stories,_ if we may.... Harry killed -- with the noted assistance -- Voldemort remotely, by draining his life force. Therefore, we have no body. We _do_ have independent corroboration; Fred caught two conversations, one between Nott and Lestrange discussing their Master's death and how best to conceal it to their own advantage, and one between Lestrange and Crabbe, relaying that Voldemort was unavailable."

People settled down at that and began to look serious again. The matter was discussed for some time. To Harry's disgust, it was decided that the best course of action would be a few choice words in Malfoy's ear, suggesting this might be an advantageous time to "recover" from the Imperius Curse and retain his standing through Voldemort's second fall.

Even this consideration could not keep people's attention for long, however. Kingsley bowed to the inevitable and suggested they reconvene after breakfast. Harry stood up and attempted to bolt for the door, but he was immediately set upon by colleagues offering congratulations and asking questions. Reflexively he grabbed for Snape's hand.

"What the fuck?"

At Ron's angry exclamation, Snape pulled him closer, which was probably not the most politic move possible, but which was exactly what Harry wanted.

"Weasley, Harry has had a very difficult day --"

"Oh my god!" At Hermione's exclamation, Harry swiveled to see her expression. She had her hand over her mouth. "Oh! It was _that_ spell." She lowered her hand and bit at her lower lip. "I ... Harry, are you all right?"

"I'm fine!" Harry gulped down a breath and tried to steady his tone. "Yes, I have a bit in the way of after effects, but it's fine, really --" he squeezed Snape's hand -- "and I just need to get away for a bit. I --"

"You _can't_ be serious!" Ron moved forward. "Get away to Saint Mungo's, likely."

McGonagall moved closer. "Severus," she scolded. "I realize Harry is no longer a student, but I hardly think it appropriate --"

Harry pressed tighter against Snape. "Will you all piss off? It is not his fault! We did all of it together, all right?"

Snape nuzzled his hair. "Not Black."

Harry laughed. "All right. That part I did on my own." He grinned at Hermione, but before he could say that he had got Sirius back, he saw Mrs. Weasley approaching from behind her, fury in her eyes. He stepped towards the door instead, tugging on Snape's hand. "Go? Please?'

It wasn't that easy.

 

Harry thought either defiance or desire would have been sufficient to compel him to openly accompany Snape down to the dungeons, but both paled before his need to protect someone he loved. They stumbled through the door, Snape slammed it angrily behind them, and they both collapsed on the sofa in the blessed privacy. After a moment, Snape raised his head. _"Accio_ firewhisky."

"Want glasses for that?"

"If you must."

Harry felt his cheeks stretch in a smile. _"Accio_ glasses."

He held the glasses while Snape poured -- generous amounts, Harry thought -- then they touched them together.

"Sod the Order," Snape said, by way of a toast, and Harry giggled.

"What, all of them?"

"No." The reply was quick and fierce, and Harry found himself pushed against the arm of the sofa. They alternated fiery kisses and burning swallows of whisky until the rest of the world faded to an inconsequential fog. Harry pushed a hand through Snape's smooth hair and held it tight at the back of his neck. He was gasping and arching up into Snape's hard thrusts, wondering distantly if he could come from just rubbing against his lover through their clothes, when he became aware that someone was screaming his name. He twitched in alarm before realizing the shouts were angry, not panicked.

Snape pulled away and looked down at him. "Why _now?"_

"I'll get it," Harry soothed, as Snape shifted back, grumbling. He heard another shout of "Harry!" as he swung his feet to the floor. Quickly, he zipped up his trousers, which had somehow come undone. "Sounds like it's for me, anyway."

"Lupin," Snape sneered. "Taking matters no better than your godfather, it appears." He sat up, but made no effort to correct his rumpled appearance.

Another quick series of knocks came from the door. "Severus! Are you in there? Where's Harry?"

"Give me a minute, all right?" Harry shouted back. "I was busy!" He started forward, but hands caught him around the waist. Snape nipped at the side of his neck.

"That was indiscreet." 

"Sorry."

The nip was followed by light kisses in the same spot. "I don't mind if you don't."

Harry laughed and squirmed away. "Hold that thought. I'll get rid of him."

He crossed Snape's sitting room -- more of a library, actually, he decided -- to reach the door to the corridor. Remus had just started knocking again when he got there. Harry opened the door quickly.

"Harry!"

"Is it urgent?"

"You _bastard!_ I came back to Hogwarts because Kingsley sent a summons saying you needed me here, and when I showed up at your room I was greeted by a ghost, who's apparently _not_ a ghost, and claims you resurrected him accidentally, and --" Remus stopped for a moment to catch his breath. "Damn it, Harry! What were you _thinking!"_

"Look, I think we killed Voldemort. Anything else is secondary to that. You should be happy that I --"

"Not that! _Sirius!_ You left him alone! And he's got himself in a bloody state, and he's stinking drunk, and ... damn it, Harry, you could have _warned_ me!"

At the catch in Remus's voice, Harry's lust-blurred mind suddenly caught up. Remus had gone to Harry's room and been greeted by Sirius with _no warning at all._

"Sorry! I didn't expect Kingsley to tell you _I_ needed to see you, and I didn't expect you'd show up before breakfast."

"And you have house elves to clean up the mess, and you didn't need that firewhisky anyway?"

"Oh. Um ... I didn't really think about that. Did Sirius tell you why I'm here?"

"Some sort of sex mag--" Remus stopped. "Oh. Yes, your ability to prioritize is likely to be shot for a few days, isn't it?" He sank down on a chair and rested his head in his hands. "I'm sorry, Harry, but having _him_ open the door -- and, you know, it seemed like some sick joke, but it's _Padfoot,_ yelling and breaking down and ... drunk, and ... God, it was awful."

"Um ... Yeah, I guess that would be rather disturbing." Harry took a deep breath. "Actually, I asked Kingsley to bring you back because I thought you could probably handle him, and I can't."

"Ah." Remus raised his head enough to rest his chin on his fists. "Well, now that I know he's real, I have some sort of chance."

He looked at Harry as if seeing him for the first time. After a moment, his eyes went past him, to focus on Snape, who was sitting, in almost prim silence, on the sofa. Remus got to his feet. "Well, you don't look quite ready to be ... out of bed. I think I can ...." He wrenched his attention back to Harry. "Could we speak before breakfast, perhaps?"

"'Course. I'll stop by my room to get you."

 

After closing the door behind Remus, Harry leaned forward and let his forehead rest against it. He heard the soft rustle of Snape's rising behind him, but decided to stay put. The tantalizingly faint noises came closer until a body pressed warmly against his back.

"Come to bed?"

Harry smiled wryly at the wood of the door. "Finally?"

A soft kiss tickled the back of his neck. "Come. I want to make love to you."

Harry turned. "What?"

"I want to make love to you." Snape frowned. "As opposed to rutting on the couch." His expression softened. He looked sad. "This may be over tomorrow, or next week, but for now... I haven't felt this way since... ever, actually, for someone who was there, and in reach, and wanted me as well." He kissed the side of Harry's face with intense tenderness. "Now."

Harry let his hand be grasped, and followed where he was led.


End file.
